


The Song of Solomon

by simeonsaysobeyme



Series: Genesis [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: (sort of), Arab Solomon, Biblical History (Abrahamic Religions), Biblical Lore, Biblical Reinterpretation, Black Reader, Demonology, F/M, I promise this is absolutely not a Usagi Drop situation, I'll add more if I think of anything, Just more in depth about his biblical story w this, Listen I just wanted to flesh out my boy and also make him the DILF I deserve, Magic, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Rated M just for dark themes in general, Reincarnation, Solomon is a DILF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeonsaysobeyme/pseuds/simeonsaysobeyme
Summary: Before he was known as Solomon the Wise, he was Sulaiman, the Clever King of Palestine. One day, two women come to his throne to ask for guidance. They both claim to have given birth to a son. Sulaiman takes guardianship over the unwanted girl and changes the trajectory of his fate forever.
Relationships: Main Character/Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Solomon (Shall We Date? Obey Me!)/Black Reader, Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Series: Genesis [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123346
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	The Song of Solomon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my RP Partner and I getting super invested in the idea of Arab Solomon, and then I decided to write his "origin story", in Three Parts. I hope you enjoy it :)

When Sulaiman was born, King Daud was concerned.

Instead of being born with brown skin and thick, dark, curly hair like his father, Sulaiman came into the world with barely a whimper, with large dark gray eyes and unnaturally pale skin. King Daud and his advisors talked in hushed tones about what this could be. Was it because of the King’s infidelity? Was it because of his sins against Bathsheba? Either way, they looked suspiciously at the baby, who seemed far too quiet and far too observant.

As Sulaiman grew up, he learned that the other Palestineans were a bit wary around him, so he stayed quiet. He learned his father’s religions, and he found himself drawn to the ritualistic nature of it. His father ranted and raved about a temple of some sort. Sulaiman didn’t care so much about it, but he knew about keeping people happy. When people whispered about you being cursed by God, you had to learn how to ease their fears.

When Sulaiman grew older he learned to show people what they wanted. That there were threads that connected people to each other and a little tug, or giving some slack, would help puppeteer them into the right direction. It ended up being his gift as he rose to become his father’s adviser. He gained more access deeper inside the palace, to places even a King’s son wasn’t supposed to be. He grew into his face - handsome, and despite his coloring, was the undeniably Arab features of his father.

It was there that Sulaiman found his first books on magic. On the demons deep below. It named names - Sulaiman knew there was power in names. And so he began to dive into those books. He was blessed enough as the son of a King to not need to cook for himself, so he devoted himself completely to his work in magic, to understanding the different realms that had been hidden from him.

The first demon he met was a minor one. Some wretched thing that had been exorcised from a girl in a nearby village, and brought into the dungeons of his father’s palace for questioning. Sulaiman was twenty by this point. His white hair finally had some wave to it, going down below his chin and tied back loosely. 

The demon had skin even paler than Sulaiman did, but an ash-like quality to it. It was more of a bone white, and they had unnaturally dark hair that looked closer to a void. If Sulaiman looked at them out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed horns and wings struggling to be seen, and the way the demon’s face shifted, to the point that Sulaiman couldn’t keep track of it or remember it.

“What is your name?” He asked the demon. First in Aramaic. Then Hebrew. 

The demon did not respond.

“Why are you here?” He tried asking again. When the demon refused to speak, he returned to his chambers.

Each day Sulaiman walked down and asked two different questions in each language, hoping the demon might respond. 

“What do you want?”

“Who sent you here?”

“What do you gain?”

So long and so forth, until Sulaiman got bored and began asking all sorts of nonsense questions, just to see if he could get the demon’s expression to change, for there to be anything that he could hold in his mind long enough to find an identity. To give the demon a name. 

The demon never answered.

A year passed, and King Daud stepped down, leaving Sulaiman to lead his people. Despite people not wanting to trust him, and his lavender white hair and unsettling dark gray eyes, he quickly gained a reputation for being wise. Sulaiman never believed himself to be wise, just clever. Through magic he honed the ability to further see those threads. To learn more about what they desire. How they could be manipulated. 

One day he spent an infuriatingly long time listening to his constituents. He’d been King for a while now, and he was tired of the endless begging on some days. His people were treated fairly, the land was wealthy. Even his studies of magic had to take a backseat to his kingship.

The young King was bored as he sat on his throne, listening to the people that wanted him to settle their petty disputes. Usually something over land or cattle or officiating a marriage for a young couple.

Until the day that two women came in and two guards holding newborn children behind them. It was then his interest was piqued when they both argued that the newborn boy was their own. Sulaiman found that curious, as there was a perfectly fine daughter that had also been birthed. All the witnesses were conflicting as well. 

“No one wants to claim the girl?” He asked, looking between the two mothers. “Would she not be as strong as you?” Of course Sulaiman knew why - a boy did not require a dowry, a boy could stay close and did not have the expectation to live with their spouse’s family. But he wanted them to say it. 

Sulaiman decided to take a gamble. “Very well,” He replied. “If no one wants the girl I shall take her.” Neither of the mothers protested. He indicated at the guard holding the baby girl. She had dark brown skin and a full head of hair. He smiled and pulled her against his chest, as he saw women around the palace holding their babies. “This is your last chance to claim her.”

There was still no reply. “Very well. I have come to a solution. I will have my guard cut the baby into two halves - you shall each have an equal claim.”

He watched as one mother looked stunned, and the other fell to her knees, howling in anguish. “No!” She screamed. “Give him to her, I do not want him to suffer.”

Sulaiman shrugged, and motioned to his guard. He pointed at the sobbing mother. “That is the real one, give her the boy.”

As the fake mother screamed, he stood from his throne, still holding the girl. “Let me have her!” the other mother said, realizing she’d been caught in her lie. “I may as well!”

Sulaiman turned around, eyebrows raised. “No,” he replied. “You said you didn’t have a daughter,” he replied. He turned around. “Her name is now Hawa.”

That day when he went down to visit the demon he changed his questions.

“Have you ever raised a human child?” 

No response.

“Do you have any children?”

No response. Hawa began to fuss, and he walked with her up to his chambers, telling the servants to prepare, and to find a wetnurse immediately.

When Hawa was three, Sulaiman wed Na’amah of Jordan. She was his first wife and their marriage ceremony was a spectacle. His reputation spread far beyond the borders of his Kingdom, as far as the mediterranean and the Horn of Africa. Na’amah wasn’t sure about Hawa, but Sulaiman had taken a liking to the girl. He would often play the oud at night while he told stories or recited poems, to help her fall asleep.

She was sharp and observant, and ran around the palace, curious. And despite not being related to Sulaiman by blood, she also had a knack for magic, so he began to study it more again. And it all came back to him as he walked her through the spells and incantations, and the amulets. It was quickly apparent Hawa loved jewelry so as she grew older he gifted her necklaces and adornments that she wore every single day. On the shabbat, they would enjoy the sunshine by the pools of the palace, discussing things from politics to palace gossip while eating simple meals. 

His marriage to Na’amah was good. She was passionate about the people. She took an interest in agriculture and irrigation and found her place helping the Kingdom like that. Sulaiman was pleased with his adviser’s choice in her, and she seemed happy as well.

Sulaiman continued to visit the demon. As he grew into his mid and late twenties, he treated the demon almost as a sounding board. It had been years and the shifting face in front of him was as familiar as the soles of his shoes. 

“Have you had to keep your daughter from swallowing a magical bead?”

No answer.

“Why haven’t people figured out yet how to solve their own problems?”

No answer.

He shrugged, and went on his way.

Na’amah found herself excelling in political work and Sulaiman allowed her that. He was not rushing for an heir, and his advisers recommended he take on a second wife. Rashida was the daughter of a Great Pharaoh, who had a deep appreciation for Sulaiman’s magical work, which grew in reputation as well. She was beautiful with thick curly hair kept in long twists and dark skin. She made him laugh and have fun. She debated him under the stars at night and challenged his world view.

“You’ve never set foot outside your Kingdom,” she said, pointing a finger at his chest. “How could you know what you do is best?”

Sulaiman realized she was right. He couldn’t leave himself, but he sent Hawa to Egypt the next time Rashida went, as much as it pained him to say so. Na’amah gave birth to his first son, and people rejoiced. Rashida also became pregnant with child, but most of the time Sulaiman let the mothers mind them. Hawa was the first in his heart, and as she grew, she became more powerful.

“Is Hawa safe in Ethiopia?”

No answer.

“Will my son be a successful ruler?”

No answer.

It was often remarked on how young Sulaiman looked. Despite the fact he must be aging, he had an unlined and timeless face, thick brows, and did not grow facial hair. But his subjects had since gotten over his paleness, especially when rumors of his magic grew wilder and wilder. But even speculation about their Eternal Boy King began to dim in comparison to word of a famous guest visiting.

Queen Makeda of Sheba.

Hawa was now a young teenage girl, and often seen beside Sulaiman’s throne, whispering in his ear. It was unusual, but everyone knew how much he valued the girl. Parents began to wonder what the size of her dowry would be. 

Although both his wives had taught him how to be a husband, how to better rule, and how to see the world through new eyes, it was Makeda that taught him how to worship.

The day she walked into his throne room, Sulaiman found himself standing up to greet her, he was so mesmerized. She had deep even brown skin that seemed to glow from within, tightly curling hair that grew up towards the sun before dipping to her shoulders. She was dressed in bright colors and held herself tall. And instead of simply wanting her, he wanted to get down on his knees and prostrate himself at her feet. The rumors of her beauty hadn’t prepared him.

Although she brought splendid gifts from her home in Ethiopia, what he truly coveted was her. The sweetest prayer he’d ever whispered was when his head was buried between her lush thighs. She would never be his wife. Would never subject herself to another Kingdom. But Sulaiman tried his best, promising her everything. She stayed for a year, during which she gave birth to his second son. He was named Melinek, and she eventually left. All he had left was an epic poem that he wrote for her.

During this time Hawa grew into her role as adviser. The two of them also began to study demonology in earnest, performing exorcisms whenever needed. He was proud of Hawa and valued her input. As a woman she went into places he could not see, was trusted by people too scared to talk to the King. Hawa was a young woman with Sulaiman’s same shrewd expression, her hair kept in long braids and adorned with beads and gold clips. 

But his first wife grew worried, and jealous of her. The way that Sulaiman trusted his adopted daughter with matters of the state more than his firstborn son and heir Rehoboam, or even his daughters Taphath and Basemath. And so when a man offered to put a knife between Hawa’s ribs, she agreed.

Little did she know that the beads and gold that Hawa was adorned in were all amulets of protection that Sulaiman had woven into her hair since she was a child, and imbued with his paternal love. He was a clever man, and he was sitting on the throne, and felt the cold metal between his own ribs. He bent over, touching the invisible wound in his side and knew something was deeply wrong.

He stumbled, using a location spell to find where Hawa was bleeding on a hallway floor. Her dark skin had taken on a grayish hue. Summoning the magic of his ancestral land inside him, he lifted her up and staunched the bleeding, whispering every incantation he knew. But it had been a magical dagger, woven with curses in old tongues.

Holding her in his arms and running to the basement, Sulaiman only had one question for the demon now.

“How can I save her?” He asked.


End file.
